


Triaxial

by Fusrodoodles



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Identity Issues, Love Triangles, Reflection, Rivalry, Romance, Tragedy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fusrodoodles/pseuds/Fusrodoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I will show him what true justice is." Three lives, bound by fate, intertwine together in a spiral that threatens to destroy them. Anders, a man driven by his convictions. Sebastian Vael, a man driven by his faith. Marian Hawke, a woman torn between her identity, and her humanity. As the hourglass begins to countdown, Hawke is forced to reflect on the events that lead to this point, and solve the enigma that is their triaxial relationship... before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_I love you._

She raced now, at a speed would draw envy from the very wind itself, the world around her no more than a blur of passing obstacles. Faded shadows of unfamiliar black reached out to halt her, yet she refused to pause for even one moment, daring not to waste a single second of precious, fleeting time. Sweat had long since formed upon her brow, the salty twinge making it's way to her tongue through an opened, panting mouth. Her legs were aching, the sinew and muscle aflame, and though she bit back tears of agony, she refused to accept defeat. She would not, could not stop. She would run until she reached him, for no pain could compare to the ache in her heart.

_"I wish we could stay like this forever, love..."_

How long had it been since she had seen the golden brown color of his eyes? When had she last counted the lines upon his face, or indulged in the sweet roll of his laughter? More than two, perhaps even three months, and yet it all felt as though it had occurred a lifetime ago. Though she could recall the events that occurred between then and now, a hazy fog of brief flashes, no memory was quite as vivid in her mind as their last kiss. She promised to come back alive, and he promised to wait.

_"Marian..."_

"Argh!" With a throaty groan, Hawke fell forwards onto outstretched arms, the skin of her palms scraping against coarse cobblestone, her determination finally broken with a simple and clumsy fall. As she hit the street, all at once she became painfully aware of just how hard she had pushed herself to get this far, how mangled her body felt beneath such stress. Her sides split, the pain descending down to her hips like a wildfire, while her feet felt like distant memories in their numbed state, her hands red and stinging from impact. Slowed now, Hawke finally realized her pale white flesh had achieved a wet, clammy texture, and one glance towards the sky revealed the culprit was not only sweat, but a light drizzle of rain. She had been so focused, she hadn't noticed the shower at all.

_"May the Maker guide us, together..."_

_"It would be the strongest alliance in the Free Marches..."_

_"You deserve no less..."_

The thrumming of the voices in her mind would not halt, the words alternating between the two voices seamlessly; one gentle and sad, the other even and controlled. Climbing to her feet, despite all alarms within her corporeal form begging her not to, Hawke knew she could not quit, for her entire world now sat dangling by a thread. Around her, the dark shapes materialized, taking the form the unfamiliar city through which she stormed. Buildings were tall and imposing, not entirely unlike Kirkwall, yet in some ways they were strangely different. Marble splashed in intricate designs, as golden sculptures of varying idols lined the neatly paved roads, from recognizable images of lions and eagles to more liberal interpretations of Andraste the Prophetess. She had never before set foot in the wealthy city state of Starkhaven, and now that Hawke was here, she realized it felt infinitely colder than Kirkwall's winding roads.

"Miss...? You alright?" As Hawke struggled to take her first steps forwards, she found herself halted by the gruff, yet concerned voice the echoed from her right. Blue eyes darted in uneasy panic to fall upon the origination; a human man. He was elder than herself, perhaps in his forties, with clothing that reflected middle class status, likely those of a mid tier merchant. For a moment, her heart skipped it's beat, until Hawke realized there was no possible way a Starkhaven citizen would recognize the Champion of Kirkwall. His kindly, wrinkled eyes held a compassionate concern, having watched the frenzied woman tumble to the ground only moments before "Do you need help?"

"... The... Castle..." Hawke choked out the words with difficulty, not having realized just how dry her throat had become in the flight through the city. Though she had been running since practically leaping from the ship that had delivered her to the Marches, Marian was still a stranger in this land, and had no knowledge of where she had even been running to in the first place. Turning towards the man, who had offered only a look of confusion, the woman took hold of his collar aggressively, no time for senseless questions "Please man! It is a matter of life and death!"

"I- It's north- just follow this road, can't miss it!" The man froze in terror, and for a brief second Hawke thought she had caught her crazed reflection in his eyes. Without a second to lose, she released her powerful grip, heeding his words and racing down the indicated path. Behind her, she could hear the merchant's shouts, though she would not be withheld. No screams, from either another soul or her own body, would stop her now.

She had only been at Weisshaupt two weeks when the letter arrived from her brother's hands, and could distinctly remember how gleeful it felt to finally place her fingers upon some sign of her lover, most especially after the ordeal she had gone through in recent times. Her smile had faded, however, when she realized the scroll did not bare the usual neatly scrawled _Marian Hawke_ that she had become so accustomed to seeing, but the emblazoned red wax of Starkhaven's heraldry. In horror, she had looked to Carver, whose mouth fell open when the pieces came together before them. Opening the message had been the most difficult task Marian had faced yet, and her fingers bad trembled viciously in their hurry. When unfurled, the scroll held a clear, formally written message, though Hawke's eyes fixated on the object that fell from within: a single white arrow, pierced through a single black feather.

_"There can be no compromise..."_

_"I will find your precious Anders..."_

_"I have made my decision"_

****  
  


Tears stung her eyes as the voices echoed, familiar and haunting. Since that night, they had believed they were safe. The prince was a distant threat, no real danger to the couple, who quickly became preoccupied with the war they had started. Never had she believed that he would return, and even when Aveline wrote news that the Inquisition had stifled his siege, he remained no more prominent in Hawke's mind. He was just another enemy she had made, to be counted amongst the millions who now cursed the apostate revolutionists' names. No... He was more than that, and she knew it. He would always be more than that.

How had it come to this...?

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke recalls a pleasant memory of an early moment between her and Anders.

Hawke ran as quickly as legs would carry, air whipping past her body with each step. In the distance, she could spy the blurred, distant visage of a great building, looming easily before those that surrounded it. How did this begin? When she attempted to conjure the answer, the memory that came to her mind was a simple one. The first time she heard him laugh...

 

***

 

The sun did shine on Kirkwall this day, it's vibrant illumination gifting an oddly cheerful disposition to the normally dour cityscape. A cool breeze rustled across the more open area of Lowtown, and drew the citizens from their homes into the light, their faces the most pleasant Hawke had seen them yet. It was a beautiful day, the kind that reminded her of the simple country life of Lothering, and the first Hawke had noticed since stepping off of the ferry a year prior. Despite herself, she could not help but pause and smile for a quiet moment, soaking in the sunshine around her.

 

"Sister, stop grinning like a moron. It's creepy" Carver's voice was sharp and belligerent, as he quickly took note of Marian's reprieve. Though she flashed her blue eyes into his matching, albeit more unhappy pair, her grin only spread wider until it was a comical expression, refusing to allow the surly sibling even a small victory. With a scoff, the younger man rolled his shoulders, looking away from his sister "Yes, yes, always a joke Marian. Of course."

 

"Only when you're around, dear brother of mine" Hawke sung happily.

 

"Not to ruin this quaint family moment, but we seem to have lost one tall, dark and crazy member of this band" Varric Tethras interjected from Hawke's side, giving a slight nudge to the woman's hip. After she acknowledged him with a perplexed stare, the dwarf gave a jerk of his head backwards, motioning behind the trio.

 

Anders stood still at least five yards away, no longer traipsing along behind the fearless leader and her twosome of 'merry' men. His head was bent downwards, attention focused on an elderly woman who proved unfamiliar to Hawke. Though he towered over the small woman, an odd sight in itself, Marian found her eyes drawn to his lips. The smile there was warm, a kind and inviting demeanor exuding from his person; so very different from the intimidating abomination who she had met inside the Chantry only a few nights ago.

 

"Come on Blondie! That Flint Company bounty isn't about to collect itself, ya know!" Varric shouted towards the Mage, gesturing with a wave of his arm. From the distance, Anders raised his face towards the three, remembering their presence. With a sweet, sheepish shrug, he bid the woman a farewell, before turning to trot to the others. Varric and Carver, satisfied the straggler was on track, continued on ahead down the road, though Hawke herself paused to await his catch up.

 

"Fan of yours, Anders?" Marian asked as the tall man neared her.

 

"Just a patient saying thanks. It happens often when I'm in Lowtown. People are strangely glad to see me" Anders gave a tiny smile in reply, slowing down to walk at Hawke's side as they continued onwards. It was obvious he was a bit embarrassed by the attention, yet enjoyed it nonetheless.

 

"Well, who wouldn't be glad to see the sexy healer from Dark Town?" As soon as the words had escaped her lips, Marian found herself wishing they hadn't. Her breath caught within her chest, as the memory of her previous attempts at flirtation flashed through her mind. Hawke had batted her eyelashes perfectly, and found herself met with a straightforward rejection at Anders' hands. What was worse, now that she had been denied the ability to flirt, she could not restrain herself from doing so.

 

"You know... You keep using that word, 'sexy', when talking about me. I'm beginning to think you don't know what it means" In a surprise turn, Anders smirked playfully, his tone far less scolding than it had been before in the Clinic.

 

"Why, Anders, do my ears deceive me... Or was that _charm_?" A coy grin spread on Marian's face, as her eyebrows peaked in curiosity.

 

"Shh. Don't tell anybody, or they'll ban me from the 'No Sense of Humor' club" He gave a wink, and her heart skipped a beat.

 

"Oh, don't worry about that, I'm sure Carver can help, since he's the Grand Poobah."

 

"I _heard_ that!" From ahead of them, Carver called back in his usual ornery voice, causing the two mages to exchange amused chuckles. _This_ , this was nice. Marian had convinced herself Anders, however interesting he seemed, would always be a little too distant, and unattainable. It was nice to be proven wrong, at least this once, and see the other side of the brooding stranger.

 

"So... You're Ferelden, right?" Marian asked with slow wording, leading into the question that had nagged her for days "Why are you named 'Anders'?"

 

"Ah... That" Anders gave a small, feeble laugh, looking to some imaginary object in the corner of his eyesight "I actually am from the Anderfels, technically speaking. However, seeing as my parents lived less than a day's journey from the Circle there, it was in my 'best interest' to be relocated to Ferelden's Kinloch Hold. There, the other children simply called me 'Anders', and the name stuck. But since I spent most of my life there... I suppose I'm truly 'Ferelden'. Not quite same ring though."

 

"Two Dog Lords, eh? Just imagine that, Hawke! If you had been less careful, you could have met Blondie here years ago!" Now Varric had joined in the japery, he and Carver yucking it up over the taunt as though the dwarf had just spoken a bawdy punchline.

 

"So... Anders isn't a real name, then? Of course it isn't" Marian growled through gritted teeth, attempting to ignore the traitorous dwarf and obnoxious sibling who continued to laugh mere feet away. Raising her voice, she spoke over their chortles, though not without narrowed brow "And... Your real name is...?"

 

"Anders. That is as real a name as I have" For the briefest of seconds, Marian thought she had seen sadness flash through golden eyes, though it was not the kind of tortured depression that she had come to expect from the man. No, this was different, and shone of heartbreak. However, the image did not last long, and was quickly replaced an inquisitive stare in the woman's direction "Actually, I'm more interested in your past, Hawke."

 

"Mine? Why, I'm just a girl from a backwater town-"

 

"No. You are much more than a 'girl'. You are a mage" though Anders' voice was hushed in response to their public forum, his tone was stern and forceful. Eyes narrowed in on her own, and all at once Marian was well aware that Anders did not see a simple young woman from a rural village when he gazed at her "You've lived your entire life outside of Circle walls, even with other Mages in your family. That, in itself, is an amazing feat, if not completely unheard of."

 

"I... suppose it is, yes. Though, we would not have made it quite so far without my father, who _had_ been in... those walls" Marian slid her lower lip between teeth, casting an uncomfortable glance around them. She had never been overly comfortable with speaking on her 'talents', having been taught early on this was an easy way to find yourself at the wrong end of a Templar's blade. Thankfully, Anders' reduction in volume seemed to have removed Carver and Varric from earshot, as she was sure her brother would have an outburst at the foolishness of discussing Mages on a busy street midday "Malcolm taught us how to hide, what to say, what not to do. He wanted us to have normal lives, and made sure we could control ourselves."

 

"Your father sounds like an incredible man" Anders mused with admiration, his gaze trailing off into the distance.

 

"He was..." Marian watched with interest as the man who strode at her side looked away, taking the opportunity to analyze his face. It was the face of a man who had seen more than his fair share, and had aged beyond normalcy. He could not have been much older than herself, and yet there was a world of difference between them "You know, he had the most terrible sense of humor."

 

"Is that where you get it from?" Anders snickered, seizing the chance Hawke easily laid before him.

 

"Oh, very funny. Do they teach you sarcasm in the Wardens?" Her eyes rolled dramatically, though the smile on her face betrayed her enjoyment "He always had this way of telling terrible jokes when things got hard. The more upsetting something was, the more inappropriate the line. For instance... Do you know where King Calenhad kept his armies?"

 

"... No?"

 

"In his 'sleevies'" Marian's face went deadpan as she relayed the punchline, fingers tugging at the fabric of her sleeves.

 

"... Dear Maker, that's the worst joke I've ever heard!" though Anders attempted to sound disgusted, he could not contain the laughter that erupted from his throat. Ahead, Varric and Carver shot bewildered looks back, disturbed by the sound of an abomination's laughter.

 

"He used that one on me the day I showed magic..." Marian's voice quieted again, as her head turned towards the ground. At once, Anders' laughter hushed, as he turned his head to look upon her face "I wasn't upset at first. Initially, I was glad I had inherited Father's 'tricks', excited even. It was not until he explained to me how much my life would be defined by it that I realized what it truly meant."

 

"So... You saw magic as a curse..." The sound of disapproval was not absent from Anders' voice. It stung a bit, despite the fact he was little more than an acquaintance to her, to be judged in such a way.

 

"What is there is to not fear? Awake, you are hated by the world, hunted by Templars, and asleep you are targeted by demons. No true freedom, always running, always hiding..." Marian's arms crossed over her chest defensively, uncomfortable with both the topic, and the intensity it added to Anders' eyes "However... Father said 'My magic will serve that which is best in me, not most base'. I don't fear, or hate what I am. My father taught me to embrace it... You remind me of him."

 

Though his lips parted to speak, Anders could not find the proper words, for there were none. There was a moment of silence between them, and neither realized their pace had slowed to a complete stop at the poignant words. The motions were slight, and hardly noticeable to any around them, both bodies had turned at an angle towards one another, as though drawn by some magnetic force invisible to a naked eye. He, a passionate rebel, and her, the soul that resonated with his ideals. Here, in the center of Lowtown, in the light of the sun, free from the chains that would bind them, two Mages stared into one another's eyes, connected on a level impossible to understand by the outside world.

 

"Ahem..." Marian cleared her throat, catching the image of her brother and the dwarf from the corner of her eyes and breaking the tension. Feet away, Varric and Carver had also stopped, taking the rather golden opportunity to mock the pair of spellsingers. Varric, a toothy grin spread from ear to ear, watched as Carver twisted his face into gruesomely puckered lips, his large hands fluttering about his shoulders in an insinuation of foolish romance. Casting a careful glance about the road to ensure no prying eyes of strangers were watching the scene, Marian smirked to her new partner in magical crime, a single hand raising with thumb and index finger pressed together "It also doesn't hurt that magic let's me do _this_."

 

"What the- SHIT!" As Hawke snapped her fingers, a tiny stream of electricity flowed from the woman, it's jolt landing squarely on the tip of her brother's nose. With a shock, the Carver ceased his 'kissy' faces, grasping at his face in mild pain. Behind his large hand, Hawke could see the rage sweeping over his eyes, incensed by the playful attack as much as he was of Marian's casual use of magic in public; however, he was even angrier at the fact that due to such a public setting, he was forced to minimize his response "OF ALL THE STUPID- Argh... I'll get you for this, Marian!"

  
As Carver pouted in shamed pride, the remaining three of this ragtag little party burst into uproarious laughter at his misfortune. Though the citizens of Kirkwall cast strange, bemused glances in their direction, they could not be quieted, their howling deep and genuine. Side by side, these two Mages held power unlike any other, the type that would one day change the world. For better, or for worse, it remained to be seen. For now, however, in this fleeting moment, they were content to simply laugh, and smile in the sunlight.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke recalls the day she brought a gift to a new friend, and the encounter between two very different men.

Hawke's legs slowed now, despite the internal protests of her ever demanding mind, and refused to continue the pace the mad dash through Starkhaven. Instead, she now stumbled down the unfamiliar road, water from the heavens pouring over her shoulders. Had that been the cause of _this_? When she had laughed with Anders, forgetting, of only for a moment, that this world was not fair? Or had it been three years later, long after she lost Carver to the Grey Wardens, past when she found her fortune in the pits of the Deep Roads? Was it...

***

"I still cannot believe you found my grandfather's longbow, Hawke. I had not thought to ever see it again!"

The quiet Chantry echoed with Sebastian Vael's elated words, the lulled serenity brought life from the man's joy. He stood in his favored area of the sanctuary, near the edge of the balcony that overlooked the main hall, his broad back leaned casually against the glossy red banister. Glimmering sky blue eyes stared down at the fine white bow in his hands, fingers deftly stroking the finely crafted wood in deep admiration. He had never expected such a gift, most especially not from his newest ally.

"What? Are you surprised? I'm capable of more impressive things than this, you know" Across from him, playful smile forever spread upon her thin pink lips, the lovely Marian Hawke. The name upon every tongue in Kirkwall in these recent days, Hawke was the newest heir to the once fallen Amell bloodline, despite her Ferelden lineage and humble beginnings. Tales of her daring feats and shimmery charm were always sure to come up in at least one conversation now and then, the favored frontrunner being her impressive wealth accumulated from a particularly lucrative Deep Roads excursion.

"You know, I have heard as much. I suppose now is the time I began to believe?" Sebastian raised those gemstone eyes to greet Hawke's own deeper pair.

"Funny. I had assumed that 'faith' was sort of your thing, 'Choir Boy'" Hawke teased with a giggle. Behind her, a cloistered sister, who had been peacefully praying in silence, shot a glance of disapproval. Hawke was not the type of character to often grace these halls, and her boisterous jokes had become something of a peeve for many of the habitual denizens.

" _Please_ don't call me that. Varric is bad enough, I do not need the taunting from you as well" Sebastian scolded, though smile on his face betrayed his amusement. Gently, as though carrying a valuable, fragile artifact, Sebastian raised the bow in his hands into position, pulling the string into a cocked stance "Truly, this is a fine gift Hawke. You have my eternal gratitude."

"Well, it's not really a gift, since it was yours to begin with. But, you're welcome" Marian watched with a pleased expression, watching the man's movements. As he pulled the string, the small hairline crack along the wood splintered slightly, causing the woman to cringe a bit "I'm sorry it's a bit beat up."

"Ah, do not worry yourself over it. I am sure they are easily made repairs."

Marian gave a nod of understanding as he lowered the weapon once more, his eyes still gazing lovingly at the design. He was a humble man of the Chantry, and yet even so his regal image shone through, proud and noble. It was an odd idea, to see both a Prince, as well as a Brother, at the same time, in the same face "So... Have you given any more thought on Starkhaven?"

"... Yes" Sebastian spoke after great pause, the pleased smile on his face fading as easily as it had came. With a sigh, he turned his gaze towards the great idol of Andraste that shone behind him, it's golden reflection falling over his chiseled face "The Grand Cleric Elthina believes that I will only find personal ruin on such a path. She advises I remain here, as a man of the cloth, and forsake my title."

"So... She expects you to give up claim to all of Starkhaven, in favor of standing around here chanting the rest of your life?" Marian scoffed in response, raising a thin black eyebrow. Unlike many, she had never been vocal on Elthina's methods one direction or the other, though time was adding strain to her hardly existent opinion of the pacifistic religious figure "Doesn't that sound even a bit daft to you, Sebastian?"

"Please don't speak of the Grand Cleric as such. She's a good woman" Sebastian admonished, giving his companion a warning look. Though he respected Marian a great deal, he would not allow her to disparage the woman who had become his guiding light quite so easily. With a frown, his shoulders then lowered in depression, his voice quieting "The way that Lady Harimann's Demon spoke... accusing me of being weak to my own desires for power... Perhaps Elthina is right."

"She spoke to me too, you know. There's no shame in desiring power, so long as you use it for good" Marian stared at the young prince with disapproval. Though she also remembered the demon's sultry, tempting words, she did not perceive them in quite the same manner Sebastian had. What good was the desire to accomplish great things without the power to see said actions achieved? Turning away from him now, Hawke leaned herself over the edge of the balcony, arms crossed to rest beneath her bosom "I believe a man with a heart like yours should be in a proper position to make a difference."

"Hawke..." Sebastian's mouth fell open in shock, his eyes following the woman with curious interest. She was always so assured, so fervent in spirit, it was difficult to not believe the words she said. A shining beacon of hope, the kind who believed there were still miracles in this world. Sometimes, despite his most strict teachings, he could not help but to compare her to the Maker's bride herself, for she seemed so pure, and beautiful. Straightening his back out, he returned to his kind, optimistic tone "Perhaps _you_ are right."

"Of course I am. I'm Hawke!" Marian flashed a confident, toothy grin, winking a bright blue eye in his direction. Though they stood on opposing sides, herself a Mage and he of the Chantry, Marian never held Sebastian's beliefs against him. It was a mutual respect, one that seemed to be quickly developing into a healthy friendship with only a nice dash of taunting "Go get 'em, _your Majesty_."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed at her new moniker for him, and in that moment he found himself missing 'Choir Boy'. Not to be outdone, he assumed Hawke's position of leaning over the railing, not daring to look at her as he uttered the words "Be careful what you wish for, _Lady Hawke_."

"Oho! Lady Hawke? I rather like that one! You may continue, your Majesty" Hawke laughed at the jab, enjoying the playful banter between them. As she shook her head in amusement, however, her chuckles seemed to taper off, as something below caught the woman's attention. Suddenly, she fell silent, eyes focused in on the level below in full attention, unblinking and consumed. Sebastian, befuddled, followed the woman's line of sight, though when they met their destination, he wished he had not.

The man stood below them, a tall silhouette shaded with an eerie darkness that rang unbecoming of his pious surroundings. His clothing was a ragged reflection of his societal status, scraps of well worn fabric that may have at one point been in better condition, yet were no longer, while the sandy blonde hair that layered over his forehead and ears bore little semblance of having been recently groomed. Sharp and small eyes, not unlike those of a feline, perched upon gaunt cheekbones, scanning the idolatry that littered the Chantry with quiet calculation. Where Sebastian was a regal individual, suited for the pomp of Kirkwall's sanctuary, this man was a near perfect contrast.

"I was not aware you had brought Anders with you" were the only words Sebastian managed to utter, the smile dissolved from his now hardened expression. The shell of his armor clicked softly as fingers began to instinctively tap against the grand oak of the banister he leaned upon, an indicator of his displeasure with the new development. From first greeting, the faithful Andrastian and the oppressed Mage had disliked one another, their viewpoints fundamentally different in every way. They walked differently, spoke differently, and even seemed to exist on two separate planes, their sole common interest being that of the woman whom frequently stood between them.

"I don't go many places without him" the innocence in Hawke's voice was nearly sincere, though she was aware that the tensions between the men were high. For years now, she had successfully forced Anders to coexist with Fenris, and had somehow believed she might come to do the same with the addition of Sebastian to her merry group of misfits. This fence, however, felt different than that of the elf and the Mage; this time, it was deeper, and even the ever cheerfully flippant Hawke was beginning to wonder if the rift truly was insurmountable.

"As I have noticed" Sebastian was terse, as his relentless stare did not remove itself from the man nearby "Forgive me for asking, but... Are you...?"

"I can't forgive you for asking, so don't" Hawke snapped back with a bitter chill. He was not the first to ask the question, and the question itself was easily one that warranted asking. What were they to one another, Hawke and Anders? What annoyed her the most was that, even after three long years, she still didn't know.

"Oh. I apologize, I did not intend to offend" his gaze broke with the unusually standoffish reply, as Sebastian turned his head to stare apologetically at Marian's stern face. With visible timidity, he began to dance around the faux pas, searching for a way to continue the conversation without further angering Hawke "What I mean to say is... I, um... He doesn't really seem the type to enjoy company, is all."

Hawke's lower lip clenched between her teeth, as the accusation was not entirely untrue; of all of her closest friends, Anders was the least integrated socially. While he and Hawke may have stood on an exceptionally stellar bond, and he shared a common sense of humor with Varric from time to time, Anders was generally alienated from the remainder of the crew. Fenris and Aveline did not trust him for his radicalism, while Merrill and Isabela tired from incessant goading. In fact, even Dog seemed somewhat aware that Anders was decidedly a 'cat person' "He... Gets along okay. Sometimes."

"Hawke..." Sebastian's brows furrowed in frustration, though he had already been warned of the two Mages' closeness by a handful of Marian's cohorts, namely Fenris. 'Go ahead and try to tell that to Hawke, I'll wait here' the elf had quipped when Sebastian first noticed Anders' unusual status and demanded Templar involvement. Indeed, Fenris had been proven correct, and Hawke seemed almost blind to the situation "He's an abomi-"

" _He's a good man_!" Hawke hissed through gritted teeth, halting Sebastian from vocalizing such a precarious sentence. After a silent, high intensity moment of frazzled glances around the Chantry, Hawke allowed herself to relax, finally assured none had summoned a raging horde of bloodthirsty Templars. Returning to her position of being huddled over the edge, Marian lowered her eyes to the wood, and her voice to a quiet whisper "I don't expect you to understand, but... He saved my brother's life. Without Anders, I would have lost Carver in that cesspool, for damned sure. I owe him more than I could ever repay."

"Hawke-" Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, unsure if it were to be comfort or apology that left his lips, though he never found the opportunity to discover which, as his peripheral vision caught sight of those sharp, yellow eyes. From the lower level, the fugitive apostate was no longer thoughtfully involved in his musings, and instead had pinned his focus upon Sebastian's own. A cold, penetrative stare, unnerving the opposite man to his very core. There was something dark in those eyes, something far beyond the benevolent kindness that glittered outwardly when Anders would speak to Hawke, something demonic. Hesitantly Sebastian spoke, their contentious match unbroken as he did.

"Besides, Sebastian. I think he enjoys it here, in a strange sense" Marian failed to notice the moment between the two men, for when she did lift her eyes, Anders was quick to break contact. Instead, the man began slinking away from view and to the side, presumably towards the stairs, as Marian obliviously continued "'Personal interpretations' aside, he is still Andrastian, after all."

"... It is important for a man to pray" Sebastian spoke plainly, returning his gaze to Hawke's own countenance. The way it softened, as though relief had eased over her, Sebastian was forced to omit his desire to mention 'especially that man', and simply smile quietly.

"I don't think Anders prays for _quite_ the same things you do, though."

"You would be surprised at just how similar the hearts of men can be" Hawke's expression shifted from pleasant relief to that of nonplussed, her head naturally easing into a tilt of bewilderment at the enigmatic sentence Sebastian just spoke. Sebastian, however, offered no explanation behind his words, and rather looked past the female, his scapegoat from the situation approaching with a stern scowl "Greetings, Anders."

"Sebastian" Anders' salutation was short and his voice cool, though this was not outside of the norm for their particular relationship thus far. If he had some notion of his status as the topic of conversation between the two, he did not reveal as much outwardly, and made no effort to address. Without so much as a glance towards the other man further, Anders narrowed his attentions deliberately, catching Marian's focus with such ease it was as though he had practiced such as an art form "Hawke? You're quite ready, yes?"

"Oh! Right, I almost forgot about Ser Alri-" "Hawke!" "Ahem. That thing you mentioned" Hawke stumbled over her words clumsily, inciting an exasperated roll of the eyes from Anders, who quickly interrupted before she could divulge the name of the Templar. Smiling sheepishly at the puzzled cock of Sebastian's brow, Marian gave a curt bow towards her friend "Sorry your Majesty, seems I've committed gone and committed myself to other plans for the evening. Hanged Man tomorrow, though; and don't even _try_ the 'Choir Boys don't gamble' bit again!"

"Farewell, Lady Hawke."

 **  
**Though he snuck in the frisky tag one final time, it went unnoticed, for Marian Hawke was already clay in the clever Mage's skilled fingers. As they walked away, side by side, the basis of the scene could not have been more obvious as to who held the control. That enthralled twinkle in her eyes, the way she easily granted him such complete trust. That coy smile, a gentle guide towards the destination he had chosen long ago, the way he made it seem as though Hawke ever had a decision at all. No, she _did_ , at one point; she had chosen to follow him, to stand by his side, to listen to his words. Words of revolution, of freedom bought at high prices. As Sebastian watched, he knew that it was only a matter of time before Anders would turn, and Hawke would be caught in the fray.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her goal in sight, the memory of the warnings of those close to her creep in Marian's mind, as well as that of her first night shared with Anders.

Sebastian Vael had not been the first of her companions to disapprove of Marian Hawke's consistently growing attraction towards Anders, nor was he the most vocal. _'I don't like his stupid face. Or the fact he won't shut it'_ Carver was always quickest with the criticisms, and spared little time after meeting Anders to vocalize his opinions. _'Come on, Hawke, don't waste your time on a man clearly overboard the good side of a sane ship! Especially when there are far more entertaining options right here~'_ Isabela had flirted frisky with a wink and a nudge into Marian's hip. _'He doesn't understand it yet, but Anders is a danger to himself and those around him. More so than I ever was'_ Merrill warned with timidity, always frightened of saying something that might offend Hawke. _'He's a criminal, Hawke. I respect his work with the Refugees, but feral dogs will always bite'_ Aveline would sigh and shake her head, clearly torn between a desire to believe in the healer from Dark Town and the inability to ignore his deteriorating attitude. _'All Mages are wicked, but this one? Hawke, I have not met a man with less self control, even in Tevinter. He should be put down! Before you regret it'_ Fenris was always harping on Anders, and though Hawke generally smiled at the immature arguments, she was unnerved by the level of panic in the elf's generally collected eyes when he spoke these particular words.

Perhaps the worst, however, was Varric.

_'Look, I'm not out to question your generally intelligent choices, but are you really sure about Blondie? I mean, don't get me wrong, the guy's alright for some good stories, but... Well, he's got that 'thing' inside of him'_ Varric had cornered Marian alone one evening during the weekly bout of cards at the Hanged Man, thoughtful concern written all over his face. Fueled by liquor and confidence garnered from a string of successes, Marian attempted to argue back with fiery, albeit slurred passion, defending her friend. Varric, however, was not one for a fight, and easily slid himself off with one reminder, that would continue to echo in her mind for years on _'Just remember what he is, Hawke. Never forget what's underneath that smile.'_

"... Hold on, Anders" Marian whispered to herself, the large shadow in the distance coming into full view. The walls stood taller than any other building the surrounded his visage, as shadows of noble statues stood tall and grand on nearly each visible corner. White marble, with only a touch of darkness for interesting details, shined even in the dark gloom of the day, a regal image to behold. There was no mistaking it, this must have been Starkhaven's Castle, home of the Vaels. She was close, now.

\---

The flames of the fireplace crackled gently, setting an ambiance that reflected the explosive tension that stirred within both souls. The orange glow these flames cast across her bedroom was warm, deep shadows reaching from every corner in a dance with the flickering light. Outside this room, the world was a dark, cruel place, filled with Templars and demons and danger at every turn, all ready to tear them apart at first faltering step. Outside, there was a world that would never understand, and could not if it ever even cared to attempt. But for now, the outside did not matter, for inside there was only them.

His lips were soft, warm lines the wrapped around her own mouth with desperate, hungry kisses, while long and powerful fingers intertwined tightly against her own. One kiss, then another, and then more still, until both parties lost count of the tally. Too long had they craved this, and too long had they fought their internal desires. It had been a welcome surprise when he had pinned her against the clinic's walls, and until this very moment, she had almost failed to realize how much the ache had been gnawing at her. She needed this, more than she could ever admit.

"Marian..." Anders uttered her name for the first time, and she melted like warm butter beneath him. As he finally wrenched his lips free, gasping for both air and pleasure, she seized the opportunity to lunge for the exposed flesh of his throat. With a reply the sounded halfway between a moan and a yelp, Marian's tongue played along his warm, salty skin, teeth barely grazing in a light, suggestive pattern "Ah... Are you... Aaaaaaahmmm- sure about this...?"

"Hnn?" His words, frolicking between ecstasy and coherent questions, hardly registered in Marian's mind, as she continued to suck at his neck without reservation. As he moved to rest his palms against the sheets and pull from her, she seized the chance to slide her own hand downwards, fingers fumbling clumsily against his black leather belt.

"Marian, stop" his voice had struggled to find it's way there, yet halted her progress towards his undress with a firm resoluteness. As she pulled her mouth away from his neck, blue and golden eyes locked into one another, a held stare of a man who dangled on the edge of a line that did not allow return "Before we go further, I need to know this is what you want."

"Andraste's ass, Anders-"

"No. I mean this, more than I have ever meant anything I have ever said to you" As Marian's eyes rolled with frustration, Anders slid a hand against her cheek, forcefully turning her head to face his own. A serious expression sat plastered in unmoving, catlike eyes, daring her to speak "You know me, better than anybody else. You know what I am, what I am capable of. I am a man, one who is weak for you, but I am more than that. To love me is to leap into an abyss, and I cannot promise you what lies there. All I can promise you is that I will love you on the way down."

Though she had mentally prepared a speech in her mind, it vanished in her throat, the words stolen by those glistening gold eyes. Though she had heard similar warnings before, from both Anders and others, for the first time she listened. As she lay here, beneath the figure of a man who had consumed her thoughts for three long years, who was no longer distant yet here in her grasp, it all was suddenly very real. She could remember the way the blue had sparked in eerie lines around his face, the boom of Justice’s cold voice, the fear in that poor girl’s eyes as Justice turned upon her in fury.

He's dangerous. He's radical. He's a product of his convictions. He's possessed by something incapable of ever fully being understood. He's a fugitive, a criminal, an apostate.

_He's a Mage._

As Marian Hawke stared into the face of the man before her, she saw herself reflected back. They were one, and the same. Perhaps there was not a supernatural entity lurking beneath her flesh, yet 'Justice' was an idea, and one that coursed through her veins just as his own. Though there were others in her life, none could ever hope to understand what it was like to be in this world as they were. Not even Merrill could claim to know the life of a human Mage, to be ostracized and viewed as cursed from birth alone. None of the others had been small children, staring in terror at the first spell they had unwittingly cast, realizing the rest of their lives would be spent fleeing from those who hated them simply for who they were. None of them except Anders.

Raising her hands now, Marian cupped her palms gently against either side of his hollowed cheeks, holding his face in place. Perhaps the world would not understand, yet they still had one another. Gently, as though the universe may shatter if she moved too quickly, Marian pressed her lips against his own, before parting them for only a small space, her mouth still close enough to feel his breath against her "I love you."

In an instant, the weight of the world lifted from Anders' shoulders, soft relief sweeping  his rugged face. Those were words he had craved for too long; for all of the ache he had felt to touch her flesh, the longing in his heart was much more. His body fell against her's as the rigid muscles forcing him up and away loosened, allowing his mouth to collide with her's in a deep kiss. It would be a disaster, and he had never felt so happy in the entirety of his life.

Blankets shifted beneath writhing bodies, clothes sailing to the floor in scattered heaps between hot kisses and excited moans. Though their hands seemed to fumble without rhythm, fingers lost in the disarray of the moment, both were somehow capable of mapping their ways across each other's form, as though they had known the way to do so all of their lives. Without another word spoken between them, Anders eased himself into Marian, and they were together at last.

It was awkward, yet strangely graceful, a sublime dance that had no steps. Perhaps they made love for only a few moments, or perhaps it was an eternity, neither could truly say for certain as time, like the rest of the world, lost meaning. Once it finally came to a quiet, yet pleasing end, both Mages lay tangled together; panting, sweating, and at peace.

"Mmm... That was..." Marian gave a yawn, her tongue curling instinctively as she did, comfortable and blissfully uncaring of how uncouth she may appear. With a boisterous shift of exhausted hips, she rolled herself beneath Anders' pointed chin, face buried against his bare chest. There was no need to finish the sentence, not that she could if she tried.

"... Marian?"

"Mhm?" Though his voice was hesitant, Marian felt the sweet lull of slumber settling upon her eyelids, and reacted with half interest. He was warm, and surprisingly comfortable for such a thin man.

"Do you remember when you asked my name?" Anders laid a heavy arm over his lover's shoulders, long fingers gently twirling a few stray locks of her raven colored hair. He had always believed she had the prettiest hair, despite her insistence her sister's was even nicer "It was years ago, when we first met. You wanted to know my name."

"I... Yes. You said that 'Anders' was all you had" Marian's eyes fluttered open at the memory. It was the first time she had heard him laugh, and the words he spoke that day had remained with her.

Anders was quiet, and though Marian did not raise her eyes to meet his face, she knew the expression he wore; a thoughtful, distant stare. His fingers pausing against her hair, he remained silent for a moment, before finding the words he wished to speak "I was born with my father's name."

Her breath halted, held in anticipation. She had only heard him speak of his family once or twice before, and was well aware the topic was a painful memory for the already tormented man. With reluctance, Marian pulled herself from the warmth of his body, turning her gaze to meet his expressionless eyes.

"He was a cold man. Where my mother was as bright as a summer's day, he was as dark as a winter's night. Never smiled, never laughed. His zealotry for the Chantry was unshakeable, the type of follower they would prize above all else. There was no question when his eldest son suddenly displayed magic, the inherently evil and wicked curse of the blasphemous Tevinter Empire. I was handed over, without so much as a second look, and dead to him" Anders spoke short, sharp words, the anger in his voice uncharacteristically steady and deep. Where he would speak without pause or restraint in the face of Mage injustice, he was calm with these words "That man is whom I'm named for."

"I'm so sorry" These were not words of shallow pity, they were sincerely apologetic. Marian had heard tales of other Mages, who faced less than understanding families when their magic arose, and yet she had never truly felt the cruelty so personally. She had been infinitely lucky her father was not only a sympathetic man, yet also a fellow Mage, for this could have easily been another similarity she would have shared with Anders.

A slight, resisted frown formed on his lips, as golden feline eyes shone with ghosts. Sitting up on the bed, Anders turned his head away, partly to hide the effects his words had upon him "As a boy, my mother taught me the Chant of Light. Each night, I was forced to memorize a new verse, and come dawn, I would recite the verse for my father. One improper word, any mistake at all, and I was beaten for disobedience. So, naturally, I became quite the knowledgeable child theologian, if only to save my own ass. The day I was taken to the Circle, my father thought I was cursed... and I agreed. The Chantry had taught me that magic- no, _Mages_ were evil. Suddenly, I was one of them."

"Anders..." Marian could vividly recall the way Anders' eyes would glaze when magic was viewed as a curse. Sebastian, Fenris, Templars, or even some other Mage would express the opinion that magic was wicked, a curse, an ailment to be rectified, and those small eyes would shine with emotion. Though his mouth would immediately begin to protest, those eyes told the truth, in that at one point he had agreed.

"I was such a little prick! From the moment I stepped through those massive, ugly doors. All I wanted to do was escape, to get away from all of the 'dangerous' Mages I was forced to share quarters with- who were largely innocent children just like me, mind you. I couldn't be there, with _them_. So, I tried to run, and was brought back shortly after, just like a prison" As Marian reached out to gently lay a comforting hand upon his shoulder, Anders' mouth cracked into a smile, not one of joy, but of sheer emotion. Like twine, he had begun to unravel, and couldn't stop "But... There was a woman there, a teacher. Much older than myself, yet strikingly beautiful, the kind you knew had been quite the looker as a girl. She had the most magnificent eyes, and an incredible chest on her for the age, if I do say so myself- ow!"

Marian's eyes had narrowed at the mention, as she delivered a hard squeeze to his earlobe in response "Yes, Anders, tell me about this woman's tits. I'm dying to know."

"Point taken" Anders griped, gently rubbing where Hawke had pinched "As I was saying, she was... remarkable. Gentle, kind, and patient, yet always ready and willing to offer stern advice. Despite being a Mage, she retained deep faith; not the consuming zealotry of the man who hit me for using the wrong inflection in Andraste's name, yet true faith, the type that ran gentle and deep, like blood in her veins. Through example, not force, she showed me that there was no sin in being a Mage. She would tell us 'Earn your place, and you shall not be reviled'. To her, magic was a duty, yet also a gift, a tool that could be used to make the world better. I... believed her."

As she listened intently, Marian watched as a change swept over Anders' face. Where his voice had been cold and broken, gradual warmth began to replace the dismal attitude. In her mind, she could imagine the little boy, likely with the same messy blond hair and small sly eyes, changing in much the same manner.

"Like her, I focused myself on healing magics. I was quite good at it, of course, a natural, but I truly just wanted that particular Mage to notice me. And, she did. I was rebellious, rambunctious, and charming all at once, and she had this funny little way of way of calling me 'little Ander' whenever I successfully annoyed her. Quickly, the other children adopted it, and soon every Mage and Templar in Kinloch Hold knew me as that name alone, even the First Enchanter. In time, I simply became 'Anders'. The other name was forgotten, as was the fear" Anders turned his face towards Marian, a soft smile on his lips. His hand slid on top of her own, grasping firmly "I didn't lose the desire to leave the Circle, but... When I ran, it wasn't from myself."

With a smile in return, Marian rested herself against his arm, somehow feeling more serene than before. They had once shared the same doubts, just as any Mage would, though there was something particularly comforting about such coming from Anders. He had always been an image of dedication and resolve, for as long as she knew him, and somehow, gazing at him now, he felt more... human.

"I could tell you my name. If that was what you wanted."

Marian now paused, a pensive look crossing her features. There was natural curiosity, of course, and had he asked her the very same question three years ago, she may have said yes. However, now, she realized what he truly meant when he said it was 'as real a name as I have', and the curiosity was absent. No longer was he the little boy who feared what he was, just as she was no longer the little girl who saw her magic as a curse. _The name was forgotten, as was the fear_. Without another word, her arms wound around his shoulders, and Anders, understanding the silent response, allowed himself to be pulled into a kiss.

Magic was their love. Magic was not something to be feared, for it had united them so perfectly, like a song and it's harmony. Magic was dangerous, fiery and unbridled, yet so too was love, and that was not evil. Magic was what they were, _who_ they _are_. Together, they were fearless, and they would prove to the world that they, their love, and their magic, had a place in it.

 **  
**Or, they would die trying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian recalls the day her new relationship with Anders became known by her companions, as well as the reaction of one in particular.

As Marian Hawke approached the gates of Starkhaven's Keep, her feet finally froze beneath her. The doors were wrought with iron, glistening in a golden color in the sheen of the rain, and along the twisting, well-crafted curves of the design, she thought briefly that she may have been able to identify a handful of Andrastian symbols. Here it was, the belly of the beast, the end of her frantic journey. Inside, she knew that whatever was waiting for her, she would stand facing it alone. Did she truly intend to simply walk in?

This was foolish.

She was a fool. She was one now, standing alone in the drizzle, and she was then, all those years ago. How had she remained so blind, when the truth had presented itself easily before her? Though the hurricane that befell them was furiously imminent, the skies were grayed long before she had bothered to notice. How hadn't she seen it before...

\---

"That's another win for me, Mage."

The smoky air of the Hanged Man was rife with it's usual intoxicating aroma, though an electric charge of laughter and cheer danced through the air. The merry band of 'friends' were united once more for their weekly round of cards, and all eight had somehow managed to crowd themselves together at their designated favorite table, the rickety slab of cheap wood that it was. In the background, a minstrel strummed happily against an overly used instrument, his talent mediocre at best, and the occasional shouting match from a patron who had consumed one too many steins interrupted the terrible performance. Business as usual at the tavern, and it was always a night of bad ale, and good company.

"Shit! How?!" Anders hissed through gritted teeth, his small eyes honed in on the notably stellar hand that laid upon the table, signifying his defeat. Across from the fugitive Warden, the slave-turned-mercenary Fenris sat, a smug grin plastered to his pointed face, enjoying his ninth consecutive victory over the hapless Mage all too much. With a groan, Anders reluctantly flipped the silver coin onto the table with one hand, the other sliding over his face "At this rate, I'm going to owe you until the day I die."

"Which is soon?" Fenris quipped, catching the coin as it rolled towards the edge of the table.

"Come on, Broody, cut Blondie some slack. We all know he's terrible at Diamondback" Varric chuckled from the edge of the table, raising a mug to his lips. His words fell on deaf ears, as both men cast dirty glares at one another.

"Remind me again: Which card trumps Feathers in this game?" Merrill asked innocently from her place at Varric's side, tiny fingers holding her cards up before her with an uncomfortable stare, as though they were a puzzle demanding solving.

"Kitten, you mean 'gryphon'. And there are no gryphons in Diamondback" Isabela burst out with laughter, charmed by Merrill's confusion. She sat beside Fenris, her arm draped lazily over the elf's shoulder, a sizeable pile of mugs before her.

"Oh? I'm not really sure what game I've been playing, then..."

"Not Diamondback, apparently. And you aren't the only one who seems to be out of the loop, either" Aveline gave an exasperated sigh, before jerking her head towards the scene to her left.

"You didn't _really_ kiss your brother's wife, did you?!" At Aveline's side, nestled between the imposing guardswoman and Anders, Marian Hawke sat grinning from ear to ear. She leaned herself over the top of the dusty wooden table, her face flush with a decent amount of alcohol in her system, listening intently to the tales of Sebastian Vael, who sat directly across from her.

" _Fiancée_ , not wife- and I assure you, it was _she_ who kissed _me_ " Sebastian chuckled, his own bashful smile betraying his enjoyment of the conversation. Not a drinker, and only an occasional gambler when coaxed repeatedly by the others, he had just recently began arriving to these little get togethers. Though he felt the odd man out in the band of misfits, he could not deny that he enjoyed his conversations with Hawke, who ceaselessly probed him on his adventurous past.

"Hawke, it's your turn to deal" Aveline shoved the gathered stack of cards before her loopy comrade, unamused with having to consistently remind the woman she was still involved in the game.

"Huh? Oh, already?" Though a bit shocked at the how swiftly the time was moving, Marian did not protest her task. Taking the cards into her hands, she began to shuffle them absently, already returning to her conversation with Sebastian "Don't act innocent! You got the poor woman drunk and flirted shamelessly until she threw herself at you! At the _Winter Palace_ during the Grand Ball, no less."

"Well, that is true" Sebastian nodded his head in guilt, though the smile remained on his lips "It was so very easy, though, and Lady Annalise practically threw herself at me. My parents were more furious than I had seen them in years, too! Ah, but it was worth it, to see that look on my brother's face as his precious fiancée leapt into my arms. The Orlesians had quite the scandal to obsess over for weeks to come."

"If you ask me, it is pointless and shameful to covet another's lover. You're a bit too proud of yourself, there's no honor" Fenris growled darkly, easily sweeping up the hand that Hawke dealt to him.

"Which is why you would make a terrible thief, handsome" Isabela leaned herself over Fenris' shoulder, bosom grinding against his thin arm as she playfully brushed her lips against a long ear. With a grunt, the elf brushed her away, though the pirate was not so easily dissuaded from her flirtations.

"For once, I agree with him" Anders spoke from his place at Marian's side, narrowed eyes turning upon Sebastian with a chilling glare. For the duration of the evening, Marian had been lost in laughter, thoroughly enthralled in the fresh, unheard stories offered by her most recent friendship, and it had not escaped Anders' notice. From beneath the table, out of sight of the others, his hand rested possessively upon her thigh, though she failed to pay it any attention.

"Please don't tell me you two are going to play nice for once in your lives _just_ to harass Sebastian?" Hawke groaned in much the way a mother would do with misbehaving children, already aware where the men were heading with the insults. Though they refused to even speak a majority of the time, Fenris and Anders made a surprisingly efficient, as well as cruel, team when they cared to.

"Ahem. I did not covet my brother's fiancée, I will have you know. Lady Annalise was not an... irredeemable woman, yet... She was not quite my type. She was nothing like..."

"Like _who_?" Anders interjected with a sharp tone, having noticed the way Sebastian's eyes fell upon Marian's face as he uttered the last of his sentence.

Sebastian paused at the Mage's snap, eyes narrowing into a glare to match Anders' own. Silently, he knew Anders was daring him to finish the sentence, and though he had managed to avoid acknowledging the frequent scowls Anders had shot at him throughout the night, Sebastian was sure to keep eye contact now "Like the other women I had known."

"So, what Choir Boy's saying, is that this Lady Annalise was ugly" Varric interrupted the staring contest between the human men, also enjoying the tales from Sebastian's tawdry past.

"Oh, that's horrible! Who would say such a thing about a poor girl?!" Merrill gasped.

"She was not 'ugly'! She was just, ah, a bit plain!" Sebastian frantically attempted to defend himself, though between Varric, Marian, and Isabela roaring with laughter, his words were almost drowned away "She was kind, and... nice... Just, a bit too masculine for my tastes-"

"What's wrong with that?!" Aveline took offense to the insinuation, a large fist slamming down upon the surface of the table, the forceful vibrations knocking over Marian's nearby mug.

"Hey! Aveline, watch those manly hands!"

"Hawke, I swear, I will hit you so hard..."

"I'm _joking_ \- ow! Let go, I surrender!"

"So, you seduced your brother's bride to be, in a room filled with a hundred elitist Orlesians, destroyed an alliance marriage between Starkhaven and Orlais, and eternally pissed off your parents... for an ugly woman? Sweet Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks _why_?" Varric eagerly encouraged Sebastian to continue. Meanwhile, Aveline currently held Hawke in brutal headlock, as the 'fearless' leader whined for help, and was subsequently ignored by her 'loyal' companions.

"I didn't do it for romance; I did it for power" Sebastian sighed at Varric's choice of words, yet continued regardless. Lifting his elbows to rest on the table, Sebastian leaned his chin upon folded fingers in deep thought "I was a boy, no more than fifteen, and the youngest of three sons. My entire life was devoted to hiding in their shadows, keeping quiet, and staying far out of the way. I wanted to prove that I was an equal, and could not be ignored any longer."

"Of course. I suppose it does not matter where you go, the elites will always have their egos- I _saw_ that, Isabela" Fenris admonished the woman next to him, having caught her sneaking a card from her boot. With an annoyed click of the tongue, the Rivaini flicked the card in the air, allowing it to float to the ground.

"Yes. I was young, and reckless, and entirely self absorbed. It was a shameful, my behavior, and I can hardly blame my parents now for sending me away" Sebastian spoke quietly, his voice laced with guilt. However, his tone then changed, now more optimistic "Now that I have accepted my role as Andraste's faithful, I am no longer plagued by such emotions. The Chantry has lifted that darkness from my shoulders, and I now walk in the light of our sacred Maker."

"Incredible" Anders laughed outright, his sneer filled to the brim with mockery, as all eyes turned to focus on the Mage. With a shake of his head, Anders laid his cards face down, devoting his focus to this particular musing "You have the sense to criticize yourself for being a horny teenager with insecurity issues, and yet in the same breath praise the Chantry! Why, if you had even a modicum of regret in your bones, you would see what that damned Cleric of yours is doing to the Mages in this city-"

"Oh, for the love of- not thisagain!" Aveline slapped one those manly hands to her forehead, releasing Hawke.

"I'm with Big Girl, this conversation is boring" Isabela groaned, her golden eyes rolling in annoyance.

"Damn Mage can't go one night" Fenris shook his head, silvery hair falling over his closed eyes.

"Oh Anders..." Marian's shoulders raised in a cringe; she may have agreed with Anders, but was all too aware she was alone in such. Though Sebastian did not justify Anders' accusation with a response, he did not need to, as the collective groans from around table were enough to silence the impending rant. The group had spent three years thus far listening to Anders' plight, and were consistently less than amused when the topic arose in conversation, which frequently it did. With a sigh, the woman turned upon her chair to face the man, pleading in her bright blue eyes.

Surprisingly, Anders did not begin to argue his point despite the protests, as he was he generally known to do. Instead, with a fluid motion, his fingers resting upon Hawke's thigh pressed against her gently in a reassuring manner, as his face leaned close to her own. His voice, barely above a whisper, rolled over his lips smoothly "I'm sorry..."

Suddenly, as though pulled in by the magnetic force radiating from his captivating eyes, Marian could not resist herself. Perhaps it was the feel of his touch against her leg, or perhaps the warmth his breath, perhaps the gentle tone of his voice, or maybe even simple force of habit from the recent nights spent sharing a bed, yet she found herself lost in the moment. Somehow, the world around them faded away, leaving only him before her. Entranced, she leaned in, and her lips locked easily with his own, pressed together in a forceful and passionate kiss.

The group fell quiet, all eyes upon the pair, whose mouths wrapped around one another like tiles in a mosaic. For years, the group had suspected the Mages of a romantic connection, and the extent of their bond had become particularly revealing in the past few weeks; ever since the incident with Ser Alrik. However, until this point, their rendezvous had been a clumsily kept secret, agreed upon by both parties that their relationship was not something that needed public attention. Now, with one kiss, the cat was out of the bag, and running wild.

"I _knew_ it!" Isabela was the first to cheer in excitement, sitting forwards in her chair. Hawke, realizing what she had just done, ripped her lips away from Anders', face redder than an Antivan Wine. Around the table, her companions erupted into laughter.

"I- ah- oh, fuck off, all of you!" Hawke managed to sputter out, her hands moving to cover the surface of her cherry face with a clammy palm. Anders, however, was far more relaxed, leaning back into his seat with a satisfied smile.

"Well, it's about damn time. If I had to watch one more minute of that childish flirting I thought I might shove your heads together myself" Varric chuckled with a wave of his hands, demonstrating the method visually.

"Oh, this is absolutely perfect! Hawke, I'm going to need details! Tell me, have you felt the sweet sting of justice yet? Come on, regale us!" Isabela cackled in delight, more amused by the situation than perhaps anybody else.

"Please _don't_. Matters such as this should be a bit more private, Hawke" Aveline began with an upturned nose. Marian shot her friend a knowing scowl, silently reminding the guardswoman of how she had not long ago enlisted the entire squad in her romantic pursuits, causing Aveline to turn as bright as her own hair "Well I don't _snog_ him in front of you!"

"Bah. I'm going to vomit" as expected, Fenris' face turned to disgust, though he was significantly less enraged than Marian had believed he would be.

"..." Sebastian did not speak, though his mouth had fallen open in shock.

"Well, I for one think it's very sweet!" Merrill interrupted with her own two cents, smiling brightly towards Hawke "You deserve to be happy, both of you."

"I... Thank you, Merrill" Marian stared around at her friends, a bit flustered and more than a little shocked. Though they had been cautioning her against the romance for years, they now seemed to accept, in a sense; or, at the very least were not quite so averse as she had assumed. Perhaps even they acknowledged the inevitable, and come to terms with what had been building for quite some time. Relieved, Marian relaxed, though it was still a bit embarrassing to be the center of attention "Honestly though, you can stop laughing any time now!"

"Not until you tell me how that ship sails~"

"Sweet Maker Isabela! Will you stop?!" Marian practically shouted, her face growing even redder, if it were a possibility at all.

"I'd like to finish this game without any more revelations of the abomination's sex life" Fenris snarled with a glare towards Isabela, before laying a shiny silver coin down onto the table "Lay your bets."

As the remainder of the group seemed to fall into line with the newly divulged information with relative ease, Sebastian sat motionless, sky blue orbs turned towards the table. It was a strange sensation, similar to seeing a crowd cheer during a death match; this was a catastrophe, and yet none offered their protests? For years, they had sneered at Anders, had warded Hawke away, and yet now not a soul stood in opposition. To them the deed was done, and life was set to continue forwards regardless. However, to Sebastian, it was simply too bitter a pill to swallow "How can you all laugh...? How can you say nothing?"

Slowly, the chuckles faded into awkward obscurity, as a feeling of dread fell over the crew. Marian had expected protest, which accounted for much of the reason she had wished to keep her love a secret, though she had somehow hoped it would work itself out. Around her, even large voices like Fenris and Aveline turned their heads away, unwilling to answer Sebastian's demands. Anders, meanwhile, stared silently, those feline orbs set upon the pious man seated across from him more than ever before.

Varric finally began, attempting to break the icy silence. With a clear of his throat, his words were short and jumpy in pronunciation, as though for once the chatty dwarf could not find them "Look Choir Boy, Blondie and Hawke are grown adults. We might disagree, but we all respect that fact. So, maybe-"

"No. I can not accept this, and neither should you. Maker save your souls" Sebastian rose from his seat, cutting off Varric's attempt at peaceful solution. As he rose, his eyes locked into Hawke's own. If she had ever seen such a look of bold, determined disapproval from him before, she could not recall. Then, without a further word, the exiled prince turned from the companions, storming from the Hanged Man as though he lead an army behind him.

As all eyes watched the door where Sebastian had stood, not only those of her companions but other patrons as well, Marian sat very still in shock. She attempted to comprehend what had just transpired; moments before, she had been laughing and enjoying sordid tales with her friends, and now a strange melancholy hung in the air. As obvious as it was that they would face opposition, she had not quite expected such a dramatic outburst from the normally mild mannered Sebastian; Aveline and Fenris, yes, but not Sebastian. _This_ was the reason they had wished to keep their love a secret, if only for a little longer. She should have never kissed him before their eyes, and so... why had she?

Anders.

Turning towards the man at her side, she realized how easily she had played into the Mage's hand. The way he leaned, the tone of his voice, the subtlety in his movements; it was all to coax Marian into a kiss. He had said he was sorry then, and yet she knew that Anders' did not often apologize for his beliefs. Had he kissed her, it would have been viewed differently by the others, who idolized and respected Marian's wishes; no, for his plan to succeed, _she_ had to kiss _him_. He was not only witty, but far more intelligent than any gave him credit for, and he knew what it took to succeed. In her mind, Sebastian's words echoed _'I didn't do it for romance. I did it for power.'_

As Marian's eyes searched him for an answer, Anders merely smiled in return; not a sweet smile, yet a smile fit for demon, coy and wicked. In that moment, she was unsure if the eyes of Anders stared back at her, or those of Vengeance. Raising his hand, Anders rolled a small, glimmering golden coin on the table: a sovereign.

"I think I'll up the bet this time. I'm feeling lucky."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke recalls her first full fledged encounter with Justice, and the impact it held.

Marian Hawke stared at the gates before her, allowing the chilling rain to soak her through to the bone. Inside Starkhaven Keep, she was not sure what she would find; Sebastian, certainly, and with hope, Anders. What now? Did she knock? Or did she charge forwards, a spell in either hand, in a mad suicide mission almost certain to end in death? There was no easy answer, and now that the conundrum actively faced her head first, Marian realized she did not know what to do. For once, in so very long a time, she was helpless. She was alone.

Or, so she thought.

"Hawke."

\---

The Amell Estate was quiet now, a silent chamber that echoed cold thoughts and past regrets. Hallowed hallways echoed with forboding melancholy, the darkness of sunset seeping through the tall and ornate windows. Bodahn and Sandal had been sent away, on a fool's errand, while Mother was so long caught up in her grand return to Kirkwall nobility that she had disappeared of her own free will to some high class function. It was for the best, as in this moment, Marian Hawke could not stomach their company. For the first time since purchasing this 'home', the manor felt like her own; her own crypt, that was.

She sat in the rigid armchair, elbows planted firmly upon her knees and upper torso draped in depression, as firelight danced gently across her silhouette. Both hands grasped the neck of the bottle of wine that dangled in front of her firmly, her lips occasionally taking a swig of the potent alcohol, the one action interrupting her unending stare into the blazing fireplace. Marian's face was blank now, an emotionless stare, lost in a world of thoughts she had no chance to escape.

Behind her, the shuffling of feet was the sole break of eerie silence, footsteps rapid and yet erratic. Anders paced there, back and forth from wall to wall, though he achieved nothing. His mood was on edge, adding a tension to the atmosphere that was already bogged by gloom. In intervals, he would pause, likely to stare in Marian's direction, as though wishing to speak. Still, he never uttered a word, and continued his on edge ritual in silence.

"If you keep it up, Anders, you'll burn a hole in the floor" Marian finally spoke, shattering the silence between them. She kept her eyes on the flames ahead, however, and did not bother to glance back at him.

"Always a joke, Hawke?" He snapped in response, though she expected as much. His voice was angry, nothing like the gentle man who whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

The Fade had been a nightmare, and the result was even worse. Hawke had no way of knowing the outcome when the desperate elven mother begged her to save her son from his magically induced coma, no idea what awaited them when Keeper Marethari's ritual had guided them into the dream plane. Feynriel, the young half elf Mage with particularly potent dreams, had been beset by multiple demons, all enticed by the 'Dreamer's' unique magical abilities, tormenting the young man with their visions and ploys. She hadn't realized the expedition would include full interaction with Justice, the spirit that lurked beneath Anders' surface constantly. She certainly was not prepared for Feynriel's eventual tranquility, either.

"Sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying, my love" Marian whispered, her throat dry despite the copious amount of wine she slid down. In her mind's eye, she could still see the boy on his knees, his bright eyes welled in terror as he begged her for sweet release from his nightmare. Her stomach sunk.

"Laugh. Cry. Things that boy will never do again" Anders' words stung, as the image of Feynriel's Fade form slowly fading into death flashed across Marian's mind, signifying that somewhere out there a new Tranquil had awoken "Thanks to you."

"He asked me to do it, Anders. He _begged_ _._ Should I have left him to be tormented for the rest of his life!?" Marian snapped, finally turning in her seat to face the man behind her. Initially, Anders had made no move to deny Feynriel had requested tranquility, and had even told as much to the lad's grieving mother. However, once the couple returned to the estate, the Mage was less subtle on his opposition to the result.

Anders stared back at Marian, his face cold and emotionless "You could have saved him."

It was true. Marian's eyes turned away from Anders, as her chest tightened at the thought. Had she been more gentle, more kind to the boy, had she not allowed her jaded, sarcastic comments to infect Feynriel's mind when he needed it most, the boy might have faced a different fate. Her volume lowering, she attempted to defend herself, though half heartedly "I tried to help him..."

"YOU WERE WEAK!" The ethereal voice bellowed in unhindered rage, as incandescent azure fissures formed along the surface of her lover's flesh. Flames, the color of blue, sprung forth from Anders' eyes, as his stance shifted from agitation to aggression. Where Anders had stood, there was now Justice, his level of anger great enough to draw the spirit from the depths of his mind, and unleash him upon the woman Anders loved.

Instinctively, Marian sunk down into her chair, hairs standing on edge in fear. She was no coward, and had faced horrors greater than the likes of Justice; however, those horrors did not hold such a personal effect on her, either. There was an innate terror she felt from the spirit's presence,the kind that allowed doubt and insecurity to seep into her heart, the same unnerving feeling that had plagued her in the Fade. This _thing_ replaced the man she loved, spoke with the same lips that kissed her, stared with those eyes she would get lost in during quieter moments. But it was not Anders.

"THE HAWKE THAT I KNOW WOULD HAVE SAVED HIM!" Justice continued to roar, unphased by Marian's terrified reaction. With a swift, inhuman movement, the creature was at Hawke's side, looming over her as a monstrous shadow. As long, thin fingers grasped the back of the armchair, the powerful grip tearing at the fabric, Marian's eyes focused on his hands, the glowing blue fractures dancing in their reflection.

"The Anders I know would never say that."

Her response was muttered, yet poignant. Though she did not raise her eyes to meet his own, Marian watched as Anders' grip on the chair loosened, leaving marks where it had been. Like a candle that had snuffed out in one breath, the lights flickered from Anders' flesh, disappearing as quickly as they erupted. Slowly, he spoke, his voice hoarse and timid "... Marian...?"

"Justice" She said simply, colder than she intended to be. Though she knew her lover had returned to her, it was not quite so easy to forgive him this time. Before, he had turned on others; Templars, mainly, as well as the innocent Mage girl who had mistaken the proud Spirit as a Demon. Now, he had turned on Hawke.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"In the Fade, too. Always there, over my shoulder... Those _eyes_. They were so cold" She could vividly remember the chill of Justice's icy stare, locked into her every movement and word. Always judging, always awaiting that single misstep that would spell the doom of Feynriel, and rouse anger from the already belligerent Spirit. He frightened her, in a way she was not familiar with, in a way she couldn't even begin to understand "I couldn't even focus there, because I knew _he_ was there. I couldn’t see what my words were doing to that poor boy, because… I couldn’t look away from _him_."

There was a pause of contemplation from Anders, as the words from her lips slid through his wrecked mind and fell into place. With a heave of his shoulders, he leaned over the back of the chair once more, though this time it was in a fit of despair rather than rage. The dark rings beneath his eyes never seemed to shine quite so vividly as they did in the fire's glow "So it's my fault the boy is Tranquil..."

She had not wished to say it aloud, though there was a sense of relief that filled her when the words were spoken. If she had been more vigilant, more focused, if she had not been quite the slave to the turbulent emotions that had filled her mind in Justice's presence, she may have been able to save the boy from his own doubts. He would have never begged for Tranquility if Hawke had shown him what a _strong_ Mage looked like; instead, she had shown him a frightened girl, using poor humor to conceal her emotions rather than comfort the boy "No... It was me, and- You weren't even there, it was Justice-"

"I _am_ Justice."

The words stung, harsh and cruel in her very soul, like bitter medicine had been forced down her throat. He had often said those words, for as long as he had been warning her away from him, and yet until this very moment the danger of such had failed to sink in. She had seen Justice before, in brief glimpses in the heat of combat, yet she had never truly spoken to the spirit until this point. To Marian, Justice was no longer a distant memory, a shadow of a leviathan slinking beneath still waters, but a beast with fangs fully bared. She always knew he was there, yet now she had to admit it.

"Do you hate me?"

Blue eyes widened in shock, the words rushing through her like freezing wind. Though his voice shook as he said them, and the syllables were simple and short, they were powerful words, the kind fit to destroy lives. Hesitantly, Marian raised her head, staring into his deep, docile eyes, so very different from the blaze of blue that had been there only seconds before "How could you say that? Of course I don't-"

"This is what I am. It's what I will always be. I can not change it" Anders stared back, his countenance betraying his heartbreak despite the attempted seriousness of his voice. Slowly, as though the very action would cause Marian to leap as a startled rabbit, Anders raised his hand, nimble fingers gently brushing the hair from her face “I’m sorry. You deserve more than this…”

“Stop it!” Marian’s own hand found it’s way to his wrist, gripping the bony joint with swift determination, refusing to be coddled with his words “Stop saying things like that! I _love_ you, Anders!”

“Do you love Justice?”

Her grip loosened. It dawned upon her now, that she had never asked herself that question. Of course she loved Anders; the kind, gentle healer from Dark Town, who shared with her the life of an Apostate in a world that did not accept them. She loved the man with blonde hair and golden eyes, who swept her into intense, desperate kisses, and made her laugh with clever words. But did she love Justice? The Spirit, who relentlessly pursued a concept that had no place in this world, who demanded equality no matter the price. Did she love the creature that shouted that she was weak, as capable of killing her as any others that stood in it’s way. It was unthinkable that they might be one and the same.  
  
“I don’t know.”   
  
Her answer was not conclusive, though it was honest. With a frown, Anders slid his hand away from Marian’s own, his long legs easily allowing him a step back from the chair she sat upon. For a second, it appeared as though he wished to speak, though no words ever managed to escape his lips. Instead, he merely shook his head, before turning himself towards the door.   
  
“I wish he didn’t exist” though it stood against her pride to attempt to hold him back, to keep from leaving, Marian knew she had to say those words out loud, if only once. She may not have known if she loved the Spirit or not, though she was aware that the question would have been easier had there not been a Justice at all “I wish it were enough, to love only you, Anders.”   
  
He paused, though he did not move from his stance turned away from facing her. There was a pause of hesitation, and for a moment Marian thought he may agree. Without Justice, they would be together, with nothing in between. However, he simply replied, void of emotion “Mages need Justice.”

“And what about me?” as she spoke, she could feel tears choking the back of her throat. Still, she refused to cry, not for Justice.  
  
“I said Mages.”   
  
“Is that… all I am?” The warm liquid rolled down her cheeks without permission, unheeding in her wishes. She had not wished to cry, and yet the tears were set free by three simple words “ _Just_ a Mage?”   
  
“... No” he replied, and with quick strides, he made his way for the door. As he walked away, Marian could not see his face, and yet somehow knew there were tears in his eyes as well, matching her own. Like her, he refused to cry, and yet had failed himself. As he reached for the handle, however, Anders did give one final pause, though he did not look back. He said “But I am.”

  
And with that, he disappeared through the door, and into the darkness. **  
**


End file.
